


The Needs of Many Outweigh the One

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, Classic "I Have Your Loved One" Trope, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had a talk with Valentine...You see, Galahad, I think you can understand."</p><p>Arthur has leverage over Harry, and he's not afraid to use it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Needs of Many Outweigh the One

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this to celebrate 200+ followers on tumblr! You guys rock!
> 
> (This can be considered a companion to ["The Third Option," ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4765763) but can stand on its own.)

Harry steps into Arthur’s office, to be greeted with shelves of books, an empty fireplace, and Arthur himself sitting in his leather chair. The scene is so familiar that Harry resists rolling his eyes. He’s tired, it’s late, and all he wants to do is to review the footage of Valentine with Merlin and go to bed.

"Is this another tete-a-tete about how Eggsy is an unsuitable candidate?"  
  
“It does involve your boy, but first, sit.”

Arthur gestures towards a chair, and Harry does, quietly relieved. He's still weakened from his coma, plus there's the fact that he's no longer as young as he once was, though he'd never admit both parts under torture. Harry dislikes having to be so still all the time, only getting out for physical therapy and a couple of practice rounds at the range. Occasionally, he sneaks out in the evening and simply strolls the gardens.

Sometimes, Eggsy joins him, and always, Harry warns him about breaking the rules, but the young man simply laughs. “You’re not goin’ to hand me answers or anything, are you?” he’d teased. “Then we should be good. Someone’s gotta keep you company.”

Harry can tut all he wants, but he’s secretly pleased when Eggsy’s waiting for him with JB at his side. When they go on their walks, Eggsy chats excitedly about this or that training regime they had that day, sing Roxy's praises, and discuss how much of a prat Charlie is.  
  
"Charlie takes after his parents," Harry once said. "Arthur brought them to a lawn party, and they're not much better. Very entitled."

"That's Charlie," Eggsy had agreed, before exclaiming, _"Lawn parties?"_

Harry explained some of the social functions that happened when there was a rare lull in activity, and Eggsy seemed to enjoy the descriptions of the food the most. He’d just started on how _aces_ chocolate fountains were when Harry heard footsteps and quickly shoved himself and Eggsy behind a hedge. A patrol guard walked by, and for a few minutes, he and Eggsy had simply waited, pressed close together, Harry’s fingers still wrapped around Eggsy’s forearms. JB had been panting so loudly that Harry feared that the dog would give away their location.

He can recall, with almost perfect clarity, how Eggsy’s breath fanned hot over his nose, how new muscle was forming underneath that ridiculous tartan suit, how he still smelled of stale sweat from training. Eggsy’s slightly widened eyes had looked grey in the evening light, fanned by darker eyelashes, and they’d been so close that Harry could see the stubble on Eggsy’s chin.

Harry could have pulled him closer, but didn't.

So for one moment, Harry worries that Arthur somehow _knows_ about this, and that Eggsy’s candidacy is in danger because of his foolish decision not to persist in efforts to push Eggsy away. He’s already preparing a list of defenses when Arthur folds his hands and says, without preamble, “I had a talk with Valentine.”

Harry's back is rigid against his chair. “When?”  he asks, cautiously.

“Recently. And I’ve come to a decision, of sorts.”

Harry _knows_ , with horrifying clarity. He wishes for his umbrella, for a gun, for a knife, _anything._

But he has his glasses. They’re not on—Kingsman usually just record their missions, but a few paranoid ones leave them on at all times, in case of a surprise attack. Harry usually turns his off when he goes home or is simply done for the day; in fact, they haven’t been recording since Harry snuck outside to see Eggsy tonight.

“He killed James,” Harry manages to say, very calmly, reaching up to adjust his glasses. He feels a click underneath his fingertips, and sees a slight blink of a light at the corner of his eyesight. Activated.

"I had no knowledge that James would attempt a bloody one-man mission without even his suit." Arthur almost sounds regretful, and Harry wonders how long he’s _known. He could have bloody warned me about Professor Arnold’s exploding head_ , Harry suddenly thinks, the absurdity of it all almost making him want to laugh.  
  
"Why, Arthur? Why Valentine?"  
  
"He has a plan to save the world." Arthur explains. "We forget that the threat to humanity is not just other people. The world can destroy itself before its time because of fools, and Kingsman will be no more, I will be no more, you will be no more. With a cull, we can all live longer. We can save the world, by sacrificing a few.”  
  
Harry shakes his head. "You sound like an infamous Fuhrer we all know, Arthur."  
  
"I initially considered keeping you ignorant. Valentine would have killed you along the way somehow. But you're one of our most senior agents—the most talented, the most experienced. It would be a pity to waste such potential."  
  
"Me live in a world where I've stood by and watched people die unnecessarily?" Harry sneers. "Not bloody likely."  
  
To his astonishment, Arthur slips a hand into his jacket, pulls out the pen, and pulls down the clip, with a high-pitched whine indicating its activation. Harry looks around the room, startled. He hasn't ingested anything lately—  
  
"I took the liberty of personally congeatulating the candidates that made it this far during supper this evening." Arthur then picks up a remote that Harry hadn’t noticed on the small table between them, aims at the screen above the fireplace, and clicks a button.  
  
Harry then sees Eggsy, curled up underneath the gray blankets, with his pug on the end of the bed instead of its cage. Eggsy’s face is smooth and peaceful, and he looks younger, somehow—so young that Harry remembers Eggsy’s only twenty-three, the distance in their ages so large that it could accurately be called a generational gap. When Eggsy shifts, his dog raises its head, as if to check if his master is all right, then goes back to sleep.  
  
"You see, Galahad, I think you can understand."  
  
Harry's been taught to keep his expression calm and his voice emotionless for years, even before Kingsman training, but he's always known his temper was explosive. He wasn’t as reckless as James had been, yet Harry had been reprimanded countless times over punching an infuriating target in the face in broad daylight. Hell, with the pub—when he wanted, Harry could lose control, and that’s what he’d done in a convoluted plan to test Eggsy’s loyalty and to also show the young man a little taste of what Kingsmen could do.  
  
But now, he's painfully aware of everything he says can end Eggsy's life in one click.

“Someone will notice,” Harry says. _Keep the target talking. If you don’t have a plan, give yourself time to think and time to interrogate them._ “A candidate suddenly dead in the middle of the night? An autopsy will confirm poison. _Our_ specially-made brand of chemical engineering. Merlin will ask to look into it; he is, after all, in charge of the candidates.” What Harry doesn’t dare to say is that he knows his friend has grown fond of Eggsy—he may complain all he likes, but it was Merlin who pulled strings to allow Eggsy into the infirmary and to turn a blind eye to Eggsy sneaking out of the dormitory at night, along with subtly stepping in when Charlie and his friends got a bit more daring with their mockery.

 _Mouth like that, he must’ve been a rent boy,_ Charlie had sneered, and Eggsy recounted how Merlin "accidentally" activated the set of keys in Charlie’s hand, wired with electrocuting nodes in extreme cases of theft, and how Charlie had slammed nearly face-first into the ground before one of his friends caught him. 

Arthur obviously knows what Harry's doing, by the way his finger ever-so-threateningly brushes the pen’s clip. “I have already spoken with someone. He will concoct something believable.”

“How many of our people have you won over?”

His superior’s smile shifts into something Harry can rightly call _deviant_.  “Right now, Galahad, a few more than you may think.  Now, make a decision, or I’ll make it for you.” He nods towards the screen. “You don’t have family. You don’t have many friends, most of which I plan to take care of myself. You’re not weakened by ties, and as a result, you’re one of our finest agents—or _was._ You’ve been compromised.”

The entire time Arthur’s talking, Harry tries out many half-formed plans in his head, but Arthur clearly has the advantage. Even though Arthur hasn't been in the field for a long time, he can easily activate the poison in less time it would take Harry to even reach out his hand.

Eggsy sleeps on, blissfully unware of the present danger.

Arthur’s basis for Valentine’s plan comes to Harry: _The needs of the many outweigh the few or the one._

But can he so callously say no, and snuff out the light he’d seen that day, outside the police station?

But what will Arthur do afterwards? He might have a weapon; he may not, but if Eggsy dies, Arthur will have little leverage left. Harry may be weakened from his injuries, but he has a chance. His plan is simple: he must get out alive. His glasses are still recording, and someone has to be on their way. Someone will help.

On the screen, Eggsy’s eyelids flutter. His mouth parts in a sleepy sigh.

Harry makes his decision.  
  
"Yes," Harry forces the word between his teeth, fists clenched on the armrests. “I will join you.”  
_  
It doesn't mean I must agree whole-heartedly,_ he thinks. _A few more hours, and the poison will work its way out of Eggsy’s system if not activated._

"Excellent." Arthur says, but doesn't let go of the pen. “You know, Galahad, I have friends in the tech department, too. I see no reason to keep what you’re planning to use against me.”

A cold wave of horror settles in Harry’s stomach.  
  
The door opens, and Harry immediately gets to his feet, but feels a sting at the back of his neck. _Arthur._ He tries to fight the drug, but Kingsman technology is one of the best in the world.

Harry passes out before he hits the ground.


End file.
